


cat got your tongue?

by mega_queer (orphan_account)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, and a cat, geoff and michael are married as shit and have a crush on the new kid who lives above them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mega_queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy didn't own much. He'd been living there for a month and still only had the essentials and his xbox. Oh, and cat food, but no cat. Well, there was the one that lived downstairs; it might as well be his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

People had always told him it was tough to move, and even tougher to move to a new city, but Jeremy liked it. It was a clean slate, almost a whole new life. He loved looking around and thinking about the memories he'd make in a new strange place. He loved knowing that one day this would be fully his own, and each counter, each floor tile would have a past with him. That was the thing about Jeremy; he loved. To him, moving wasn't what was hard.  
What was hard was sorting through all his shit, physically and mentally.

He'd never been a cynical person, when people told him that it was naive to think he'd live happily ever after with his high school sweetheart he'd shrug it off. They said it was storybook, but stories always had roots in real life. That's what he'd thought, and now he was in a new city altogether after moving out of his ex-girlfriend’s house.  
Jeremy didn't own much. He'd been living there for a month and still only had the essentials and his xbox. Oh, and cat food.  
But no cat. Well, there was the one that lived downstairs; it might as well be his.

Maybe Jeremy was a bit of a softie -- sue him. He couldn't help it that his neighbours’ cat loved him. Well, he probably could, he supposed, but he didn't want to. It wasn't like he'd intentionally stolen him. This was information he relayed to the tattooed man in front of him.

"Listen, buddy," Jeremy started, still scratching the cat behind his ear, "I'm not some sort of weird catnapper, I promise."

"That sounds like something a weird catnapper would say, kid," the words were tangled in a smile, despite the other man’s obvious confusion, "but I was more wondering what you were doing in front of our door"

Jeremy's head jerked back up to look for the referenced second person just in time to see a younger man round the corner, this one red in the face and talking all the while.  
"Did you see the fucki-" their eyes met and the man stopped abruptly. Jeremy's widened. He stopped petting the cat, and gave the man a smile he hoped conveyed a ‘nice to meet you' message. A bystander would say it was more 'please don't let my crazy neighbour kill me before I've been in the city more than a month', but it seemed to work alright.

"Hi!" Jeremy spluttered, "I was just on my way upstairs, sorry! I moved in not long ago and your cat looked so soft and," he paused, realising he sounded a little odd, giving the two men an indulgent half shrug he continued, "I guess I miss my cats, sorry for getting in your way."

"No worries, dude." the redhead seemed amused, rather than angry, as Jeremy had first thought. Nevertheless, he made something of a quick escape as he shuffled down the hall to the stairs up to the next floor. He made himself a cup of coffee before sitting down and letting himself think over his first impression. Cats were easier to deal with than people, not to mention his social skills were a tad rusty.

 

* * *

  
The next time Jeremy saw them, it was a couple days later in Walmart. They introduced themselves and shared polite small talk, where they were from, etc. After a few minutes he was being teased for his quick escape.

"Michael has that effect on people." Geoff joked, before being shoved into a shelf containing -- were those cat treats? Jeremy grabbed a packet and placed it in his basket, only to look up to Michael raising an eyebrow.

"That's why our cat loves you, huh?" asked Michael, eyeing up Jeremy’s most recent acquisition.

"I like to think that he just likes something about me." Jeremy joked as they walked towards the checkout.

"Yeah, something like the cat treats you keep feeding him," shot Geoff with a smirk, "He's going to get fat, y'know?"

"Live fast, die young, I guess" interjected Michael. Geoff nodded, grabbing a bottle off the nearest shelf as the two of them went to pay. Jeremy smiled at their backs and went returned to his shopping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more like cat got his stomach am i right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of blood in this one, so watch out, but everyone's absolutely fine

After meeting Jeremy, Michael and Geoff seemed to see him everywhere. They’d smile at him from across streets and stop and talk to him in the halls of their apartment complex. They liked him; he was funny and bantered easily with them.

“It helps that he’s cute.” Geoff joked one night, when they were talking about their new friend.

“He is, isn’t he,” winked Michael, “Not to mention those muscles.” Michael stopped look at their ceiling and turned to face Geoff in their bed. “Think he’s single?”

Geoff noticed the change in tone from half-joking to serious and looked Michael in the eyes. “I haven’t seen him with anyone,” he mused, “you got a crush, Mikey-Wikey?” The voice was teasing, but the question hung in the air.

“As if you don’t too,” snorted Michael. Geoff chuckled and Michael went back to looking at the ceiling. “It’s not like he’ll be interested anyway, we can’t just tag team our neighbour – hell, we don’t even know if he likes dudes!”

“We could find out.” Geoff smiled.

“What? Just ask him?” Michael furrowed his brows.

“I was thinking of a more subtle route first, buddy.” with that said, Geoff pulled Michael into a kiss.

* * *

The next week was fruitlessly spent playing detective; looking at anyone who entered their building and evaluating interactions with the green haired man. They had learnt nothing and it was, to be frank, pissing Michael off.

“Jesus Christ Geoff,” he drawled, exasperated, “remind me again why we don’t just fucking ask him?”

Geoff sighed, and reached out to pat their cat’s ears from it’s position, nestled contentedly in Michael arms. He started to drawl out a response before seeing Michael look right behind him, purpose written all over his face. He wasn't surprised to see Jeremy’s approaching form, having seen that look on Michael’s face more than a few times. The redhead gave him a pointed look, seeing that Geoff had noticed Jeremy. However, the cat had spotted Jeremy too, and boy, it did really seem to care a lot more about Jeremy than it did Michael.

In a few seconds, the cat had struggled and clawed its way out of Michael’s arms begun to run towards the oblivious Jeremy, who didn’t remain oblivious for long.

“FUCK! JESUS FUCKING SHIT,” blurted Michael, his hands going to cover his scratched up stomach. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE SHIT.”

Jeremy quickly jogged up to the hissing man, joining Geoff at his side to make sure he’s alright.

“That looks deep,” Geoff was worried, “It could get infected-“

“I’m not a fucking baby, Mom,” spat Michael, glaring at the cat, “but that fucker does have filthy claws.”

Jeremy bit his lip. “I have some anti-bacterial wipes?” he offered, cautious of further aggravating the injured man. He was rewarded with a winning smile from Geoff, and his mouth seemed to instinctively smile back. He led the two up to his flat and into his kitchen.

“Could you grab ‘em for me Geoff?” Jeremy requested, “They’re just under my sink in the bathroom.” After getting a nod, he turned back to Michael, who’d already taken off his shirt and was prodding at the wound with morbid fascination.

“D’you think this’ll scar?” Michael laughed.

“I heard chicks dig scars, buddy, so sorry, but no,” Jeremy missed the split second frown on Michael’s face, too busy getting on his knees to properly look at the cut, “it doesn’t look too deep.”

Geoff took that opportunity to enter the room with the wipes, throwing them at Jeremy’s head with only a “Think fast!” for warning. Jeremy, blessed with good reflexes from his days doing gymnastics, grabbed the pack out of the air, took out a wipe and, without a second’s hesitation, started dabbing at the cut. Michael jerked back.

“What the fuck dude!” he yelped, “Give a guy some warning!”

“Sorry,” said Jeremy, his tone indicating he was anything but, “I thought I heard you say that you weren’t a baby.” Geoff laughed his familiar laugh, and Jeremy went back to intently cleaning the cut. Michael, however, could barely breathe. There’s Jeremy, probably straight, definitely not interested Jeremy. But he’s on his knees in front of him and Michael’s sure he’s going to have dreams about this. He locked eyes with Geoff, who was taking in the scene before him, and swallowed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was hungry when i wrote this

Jeremy didn’t seem to see the two men for a few days, which was odd, but not unheard of. It was actually in the nearest video game store they saw each other next. Jeremy found himself relieved to see the familiar tattoos.

“You thinking of getting-,” Jeremy started, before seeing what they were looking at and laughing, “is that the new transformers game? Jesus.”

“You got a problem with transformers?” Michael jibed.

“My problem is that that game is shitty and everyone knows it.”

“Hey, Jeremy, we didn’t make fun of you for your 50 pack of Kraft mac’n’cheese, did we?” Geoff interjected.

“You’re doing it right now.” pointed out Jeremy.

“Eating plastic and chemicals is worse than buying a bad video game.”

“Debatable,” Jeremy smiled, “and plastic and chemicals is better than what I could cook – my ex-girlfriend used to do all the cooking.”

Michael and Geoff shared a look, before Geoff went on to extend an offer to the man, who apparently was a failing adult, “I was going to cook something nice tonight if you’re free, come over around seven?”

“I’m always free for food!” Jeremy had lit up like a Christmas tree. He hadn’t admitted it to himself, but he really enjoyed being in the presence of the two men, and had missed them a ridiculous amount for barely knowing them.

After he left, Michael gave Geoff a confused look. “He’s straight, dude, why invite him over? We’ll just make him uncomfortable if we hit on him.”

“So we don’t,” decided the older man, “He’s not interested, sure, but he’s still cool, whether he wants to sleep with us or not.”

* * *

It was five o clock and Jeremy was fretting. He’d never been to a dinner party – was this a dinner party? Do three people count as a party? Was anyone else invited? Was it narcissistic to assume Geoff and Michael had offered out of a want to spend time with just him? He stopped. That last thought had an undertone of longing to it, but he shook it off immediately, pushing that thought from his mind.

He’d only seen adult dinners on tv, sure, he’d eaten with friends and his girlfriend’s parents but those were people he’d known since childhood. He had learnt that people took potato salad, what he remembered as some sort of mayonnaise-y slime, or casserole - wait - was that for funerals? Nevertheless, he scavenged his apartment for acceptable offerings. He only found wine (cheap), beer (cheaper). A brainwave hit him; he’d bake something!

Jeremy was a stress-baker, so it hit two birds with one stone. On autopilot, he cleaned his counters and preheated his oven. Grabbing a packet of chocolate biscuits, he put them in a sandwich bag and crushed them into crumbs, heating butter and mixing the crumbs into it once melted to make a pie crust. He looked for a filling while it baked and cooled. In his cupboard he found a half empty jar of peanut butter behind some sort of soy sauce. Mixing the peanut butter with cream cheese, cool whip and icing sugar to give it more substance and a sweeter taste, he started thinking over outfits. He decided that the pie would be embarrassment enough if it was informal, no need to turn up in a dress shirt.

Shoving the filling in the crust and the pie in the fridge, he grabbed his nice pair of jeans and a plain black shirt and threw them on, then took a second to breathe. As soon as he stopped and let himself think he regretted it, checked his watch and grabbed a beer to calm down. He had three quarters of an hour to kill.

* * *

It was two minutes to seven when Jeremy knocked on the door, pie in hand. It was seventeen seconds later (he'd counted) when the door opened to a brilliantly smiling Michael, who somehow looked even happier when he saw the baked goods, and took the pie from his outstretched arms when it was offered.

“Geoff!” yelled Michael, through the biggest smile Jeremy had ever seen, “You have GOT to come out here! Jeremy’s bought us a pie.”

“I’m cooking, asshole!” responded Geoff, but emerged anyway, bringing with him the fantastic smell of chicken. Michael stuck his finger in the filling as Geoff swatted at his head for being rude.

“This is too good,” Michael practically moaned, “Jeremy, where’d you get this?”

“I, uh,” Jeremy feels himself regretting being so eager to impress, “I actually – I made it.” Geoff and Michael laughed, not unkindly, but in a way that made Jeremy’s stomach as warm as he suspected his face was.

“I’ll put it in the fridge then!” smiled Geoff, “Thanks, Lil J.”

Jeremy was almost too stunned by their warm reception to notice the nickname. Almost.

“Lil J?” he asked, incredulous.

“Ah, that one’s my fault.” Michael admitted.

“And you two can talk about it without me, because I am busy slaving away over a hot stove, working my fingers to the bone, tr-“

“Okay, okay, we get it.” Michael interrupted Geoff, and started walking through to the next room, gesturing that Jeremy should follow him. “So, here’s the deal,” Michael started as they plopped down onto the couch, “you’re fucking tiny.” He said it like it was fact.

“I’m not even that short!” exclaimed Jeremy. Michael raised both eyebrows. “In Italy the average height for men is five foot tall!”

“Do we look like we’re in Italy, Lil J?” Michael laughed, a sound that Jeremy found he was starting to love - no, he told himself. That he was starting to treasure – no. Shit, he concluded, there was no way to put that that didn’t sound incredibly gay.

Thankfully, his train of thought was interrupted by Geoff yelling that dinner was ready. He’d made chicken with lemon and honey sauce, and boy, it was good. Dinner was filled with friendly banter and a homely atmosphere. Jeremy felt warm, pleasantly full and satisfied. He showered Geoff in compliments, but although the food was good, the company was somehow even better. He was sure he hadn’t stopped smiling all evening, and he felt his heart buzz contentedly in his chest. This, he knew, was a moment he’d look back on. He could feel himself starting to call this city, these people, his home.

“It was made with a sprinkle of love.” Jeremy claimed, when asked how his pie tasted so good when he couldn’t cook for shit.

“Is that a nice way of saying that the secret ingredient is your cum?” commented Michael.

Jeremy and Geoff laughed, their happiness mixing together and becoming stronger and more powerful and – Jeremy was fucked.

He supposed there were worse people to have crushes on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jeremy still isn't a proper adult

Jeremy’d never had a car; he’d never needed one. He’d always enjoyed walking, and he liked to think that it kept him fit. This decision, he’d found, had come back to haunt him. Or to freeze him, rather. Either way, he was more interested in getting home. He sniffled as he walked, his hands seeming to lose their ability to move even as his teeth chattered senselessly.

Luckily for Jeremy, Michael had just finished work too, and while Jeremy was without a car, he did have a very defining feature, his neon hair stuck out like a beacon. Michael pulled up and began to cruise next to Jeremy.

“Fancy seeing you here, Lil J,” he drawled. Jeremy whipped his head around and was visibly relieved, the car slowed to a stop, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

“Are you sure?” Jeremy stuttered out, “I don’t want to get your car all soggy.” The protests were weak, Michael leaned over and wordlessly opened the door to the passenger seat. Jeremy hopped in, and sneezed almost as soon as the car started picking up speed.

“Your outdated references actually hurt me, between this and my cold, I’m a goner.” Jeremy joked.

“Take some medicine when you get home if you feel so bad.” Michael replied, half concerned.

“I don’t actually have any – I’m not going to get sick, I never do. I have an excellent immune system.”

“That would be convincing if you weren’t white as a sheet and practically vibrating my whole car with your shivering.”

* * *

Jeremy never got sick. It just didn’t happen. That was why he was so shocked when, as soon as he was home, he felt the urge to sit down, his bones aching. He turned on the tv, looking for something to make him feel better, but ended up channel surfing, settling on Say Yes to the Dress. It was two hours later when Jeremy was dozing, surrounded by tissues, when he was startled by his doorbell.

He blinked, getting up to answer his door despite his protesting legs. The moment the door opened, Michael barged in, plastic bag in hand.

“…Come in.” Jeremy blinked at Geoff, who was still waiting outside, carrying a bowl and smiling.

“Someone was concerned about our favourite neighbour being alone and sick.” explained Geoff, walking up to place the bowl on the counter next to Michael’s bag, which he was emptying on the counter. It contained tissues, a pack of what appeared to be vitamins, cold and flu medicine and a four-pack of Gatorade. If Jeremy’s face wasn’t already red from being ill, his blush would’ve been much more visible.

“Fuck off,” Michael kept unpacking, definitely not keeping his head down to hide his own blush, “if Jeremy died then the cat would be distraught.”

Jeremy wass dizzy and more than a little lightheaded, despite being weighed down with a stuffy nose. He began walking towards Michael, only to almost trip over his own feet. By the time he looked back up, Geoff was next to him, holding his arm steady and guiding him towards the couch.

“Christ dude, why the fuck are you on your feet?” Michael scolded.

“Pretty sure some asshole knocked on my door.” They were all smiling, even if Geoff and Michael’s were tinged with worry. Once Jeremy was sat down, Geoff had the back of his hand on Jeremy’s forehead.

“I assume the tutting means I’m not exactly in full health?”

“Looks like your excellent immune system isn’t so great, huh.” Michael teased, interrupted by the beeping of Jeremy’s old microwave.

A few moments later, the aroma of tomato was drifting around his apartment and a bowl of soup was wafted under his nose. This, he realised, was what was in the bowl Geoff had brought with him. Taking a spoonful, he drank down the soup, thankful for the warmth it brought him. He hadn’t noticed, but now that he was sat between Geoff and Michael on his couch, he realised he’d been cold.

Say Yes to the Dress is still on TV, and when Jeremy wakes up the next morning, huddled between two warm bodies, he feels much better.

* * *

A few days later, Jeremy hears Michael shouting and footsteps outside his apartment. Opening his door to the sight of Michael, out of breath, and a smug looking cat, he laughed. Until, that was, the cat opened his mouth and deposited a bird at Jeremy’s feet.

“I guess he’s as worried about you eating properly as we are.” remarked Michael, as Jeremy thanked the cat and disposed of the bird.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this would probably have been abandoned already if it weren't for you lovely commenters. this one's for sabbratbabygirl, because you deserve it.

Winter went by in a flurry of, well, flurries. By Christmas Eve, Jeremy’s apartment had a cupboard shelf especially dedicated to stockpiling tissues. It’s right in underneath his Walmart own brand spices and sultanas, which is below his counter. His counter with a very special present for a very special someone on top.

Grabbing it, he filled in the ‘to’ label and took it downstairs, as he was about to pull the stair door open, the thought of how sentimental and silly he’d look hit him like a wrecking ball, and then the door itself hit him like, well, like a door.

The tiny Petsmart brand fake stocking hit the floor, and Jeremy almost did too. He stumbled, dazed, and rubbed his head as someone he didn’t recognise apologised and held the door open for him in apology. He couldn’t very well turn back and go to his apartment with someone waiting for him to move, so he proceeded, giving his unintentional door batterer a smile and an assurance he was fine.

With that decided, or decided for him, he carried on towards Geoff and Michael’s apartment and was welcomed in warmly.

“Where’s the cat?” asked Jeremy, “I have something for him.”

“You’re telling me you came down here, on Christmas Eve-“ Geoff’s voice cracked, “to give our cat a present?” Geoff and Michael’s laugh mingled, making Jeremy feel jollier and warmer than any Christmas carol he’d ever heard. Michael, breathless, gestured towards their front room, Jeremy pushed past, thrusting the present into Michael’s already doubled up form. He didn’t get too far before hearing more laughter from the kitchen.

“Does that say Ser Pounce-a-lot?” Geoff looked incredulous, eyebrows raised as he leaned over Michael’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with addressing a present to a cat!” Jeremy remarked, “I don’t care if he can’t read it.”

“That’s not the issue here,” Michael said, his own closed mouth smile stifling his laughter, “first of all, his name’s Boris.”

“Boris?! That’s not a cat’s name! That’s the name of a probably racist old man, why – why would you call your cat Boris?”

“Why would you call our cat Ser Pounce-a-lot?”

At this point Jeremy gave up talking to the two men and decided to talk to the cat, now officially Boris, instead. He cooed reassurances and compliments at him, firmly ignoring the barely-standing Geoff.

Once the laughter had died down, Jeremy looked back up. And then, Jeremy looked down, back up  again, and blinked.  
“Where’s your tree?” Jeremy didn’t exactly have a tree, but he had a bonsai he’d bought from the dollar store on impulse; he wasn’t exactly loaded, okay? But Michael and Geoff definitely had the money to get a tree. Hell, they didn’t have any decorations at all, if you didn’t count the stack of Die Hard DVDS by the Xbox (which Jeremy personally didn’t).

“We don’t really celebrate Christmas,” Michael explained, “neither of us believe in God so it’s just sort of a day where Geoff cooks a fancy meal. My Mom used to buy a cake from wholefoods.”

Jeremy looked affronted. “You’ve never had a homemade Christmas cake?”

“Nah, none of my family celebrated.” Jeremy looked at Geoff for assurance that he’d had some and was pleased to see an affirmative from the man.

When Jeremy leaves, half an hour later than he thought after having been roped into watching the last half of a movie he’d never seen, he immediately goes to his kitchen. He’d had dried fruit soaking in sherry already for his own cake, but, knowing Geoff was having some, he added a bit more.

As he was mixing his dry ingredients, treacle and eggs together, he received a facetime call.

“Hey, Jezza Dooza!” the accent was familiar, even though he didn’t hear it often, “See, it stuck!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay Gavvers.” Jeremy smiled and put his phone back down, resting it against his Christmas Bonsai so he was in frame but could still move around. “Christmas cake.” he explained, at Gavin’s curious look.

“Of course!” Gavin laughed, or maybe squawked, “I’m just checking in on you, gotta make sure my tiny boy is still okay!”

Jeremy shook his head and stirred in the fruit, spending half of the four hours baking time talking to Gavin, and the other two kicking his ass at Halo.

As he goes to bed that night, he sets an alarm for the morning that just says ‘ice your cake, dickweed”.

* * *

It’s 3pm when Jeremy goes down to see Michael and Geoff, holding his marizpanned cake carefully. Geoff answers the door, his nose and cheeks so red from eggnog that he looks like some sort of punk Santa. Geoff laughs at that, and Michael yells to come in, his New Jersey accent especially thick. It makes Jeremy feel safe.

When he presents Michael with the cake, he smiles and says he enjoyed making it. Michael lights up and he looks so excited that Jeremy thinks that staying up until 2am making extra mix and waiting for it to cook was worth it.

After a late lunch, they fall into a familiar formation on the couch and put on a film, flicking though channels until Geoff stops on a kids film, Rise of the Guardians or something. Jeremy believes in God, heck, he wears a crucifix around his neck, of course he believes in God. Christmas is a time to commemorate the birth of Jesus and to celebrate Him, and Jeremy may be biased and he may be a little drunk, but when he shoots up a silent prayer, he thanks God for putting his own miracles, Geoff and Michael, in his life.

With thoughts of how lucky he is dancing in his mind, he relaxed, a full stomach and a full heart. When he wakes up, two hours later, it’s to Michael and Geoff kissing.

“Wha-“ Jeremy’d never been one to control his surprise, especially after just waking up. Geoff and Michael sprung apart, surprised. “You guys’re, yknow… together?”

He didn’t realise it at the time, but it wasn’t the best response. As Michael’s smiling face morphed into a glare, Jeremy realised his groggy surprise could be misconstrued as dislike, or even disgust. He opened his mouth to backtrack as Michael shot daggers at him.  
“If you have a problem with it,” Michael started, acid lacing his tone. Jeremy raised his arm and started babbling.

“No, I mean, that’s cool, uh, no problems here, not one,” words are flying out at a mile a minute and Jeremy isn’t even thinking at this point, “You’re together! That’s news. News I didn’t know, which is why it’s news, but I’ve got no problem with it! I’m not homophobic, actually I’m not even straight, y’know, I mean, you didn’t know, because I didn’t tell you, but-“

He was cut off. Geoff and Michael’s expressions had been softening gradually throughout his garbled, frantic explanation. Geoff lifted his right hand, showing off the simple band.

“Married, actually, buddy.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed the worst,” Michael looked guilty, “We know you’re a good dude, it’s just that some people aren’t as open.”

“Those who gay together, stay together, right?” Jeremy thinks the joke is a smooth recovery after his misstep, “Not that I’m actually gay, but bi’s close enough.”

Jeremy understands more than most. His girlfriend had left him after he came out, claimed he’d leave her for a boy. Explaining this to the – and this was weird to think – couple, he watched their expressions revert right back to pissed.

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Geoff remarks, as he and Michael plop down on either side of Jeremy and pretend to watch whatever’s on, trying to control their over-protectiveness for this kid they’ve not even known for a year.

Lying in bed that night after eating a turkey sandwich composed of some of the leftovers that were pushed upon him, Jeremy thinks about the kiss. As he curls up alone, he feels cold. His bones ache and his heart ache. It’s one thing to have crushes on your young, kind downstairs neighbours; it’s another completely to be in love with a married couple who clearly have their lives sorted. Their lives without him. As he curls up alone, he feels cold. His bones ache and his heart aches. He’s pining, he realises, and breathes out.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a self indulgent mess, the mentioned ex is not kat, whom i love, and will probably show up at some point


End file.
